Clashing Blades
by Stone Shield
Summary: Naruto steps out of anonymity to fight X-Cons and Cloneblade bearers.  Definitely rated M.  Possible lemons.  Naruto Masane, possibly Shiori, too.
1. Drawing The Sword

Clashing Blades

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or Witchblade

Speaking Normally

_Thoughts_

**Demonic/Possessed/Transformed Voice**

Chapter 1, Drawing The Sword

Cleaning the juices from his blade, he paid little notice to the late arrival. "You're late." The transformed Masane looked back and forth between him and the obviously dead X-Con.

He'd defeated it?

He would have to be strong… She could feel it now. Power oozed off him. If anything, her battle lust increased. Exponentially. "**Are you the one?**" she cooed, licking her lips suggestively.

Blade sheathed, he cocked his head to the side. Her expression was all thirty-two flavors of crazy. Whether or not she would have elucidated, potential answers were foregone when she threw herself at him, a long-blade sprouting from her forearm, her face adorned by a predatory grin.

Fight (One-sided)

The semi-possessed Masane panted from the exertion. It had to have been going on ten or so minutes and she had yet to even touch him. At the same time, he did little more than deflect her attacks, dodging. Her gold on black eyes gleamed happily. Triumphantly.

"**C'mon, just let me cut you a little,**" she cooed, gold and black eyes gleaming.

Feigning shock, "What? I'm not that easy," he countered playfully. "It's dinner, first, and a two drink minimum before we get that far."

The witchblade wasn't annoyed at all by his banter. In fact, it only grew more intrigued.

She'd found him! Countless centuries, innumerable lives. Finally.

She could feel his power. That which he radiated, and the far greater amount that he held back. More, she felt the strength of his very being. Finally, someone stronger. Someone…..worthy.

And she could see it in his eyes, too. Like her, he was enjoying the fight.

"**At last,**" she mewled breathily, barely able to hold off a lazy attack probing her defenses. "**I've been waiting for someone like you, someone strong, for a ****very**** long time.**"

Eyebrow quirking beneath his hair, "I'm flattered?"

Freeing her left from supporting her bladed right arm, she made as if to strike him. Only, he intercepted the feeble attack with his own opposing hand.

She grinned.

He should have known better.

It was an Anko-like grin.

The metal armor scantily covering her bare form shot out a metallic tentacle to encircle his forearm. The man's blue eyes grew noticeably larger in alarm.

But there was no attack. Covering his forearm, the tentacle broke off from the source. "What in Hades?" he yelped, jumping back and away her, staring at his arm.

Already, he could feel a searing pain pulsing from his arm, as if the metal wrapping were red hot. Ignoring the pain, yet still clutching his arm, he continued to back away. This was an unknown. This wasn't like the Elementals, drawing on too much power would get him noticed. Better to retreat for now.

Slipping to the side, he blurred away mid-step, leaving only a quiet "Not over."

Sighing in deep seated satisfaction, the Witchblade-possessed beauty regarded the now empty spot. "**Of course not,**" she purred hungrily. "**It's only beginning…for us…my king.**" She shivered in anticipation, hoping that he was indeed…the one.

He was a stumbling wreck by the time he made it to the safe-house. He felt like crap. What worried him though, was that, being what he was, he didn't get sick.

There was no telling what the fuck was on his wrist, but he wasn't about to let go of the possibility of being tracked. Mind hazy, he shuffled tiredly over to the worn couch before collapsing lifelessly onto it.

While he slept, the metal encasing his arm visibly began to glow. Radiant energy caressing flash, it oozed over him.

Frowning in his sleep from some unknown discomfort, sweat drenched him. The strange energy reached the halfway point of covering his body when it began radiating energy of its own. Chakra. A calming pale blue-white. The two opposing energies fought over territory until, after a time, they began swirling together, working as one.

The mass of metal on his arm, once the leftover bit of a tentacle, reshaped, spreading out until it took the shape of a manacle, reaching halfway from his wrist to his elbow. Wholly silver, tribal-like markings were etched into its surface. Its transformation finished, both energies receded, each bearing a touch of the other.

Across town, in the newly acquired apartment of Masane and Rihoko Amaha, Masane shifted in her sleep. On her wrist, the bejeweled silver bracelet pulsed. It could sense it now. Success. The Witchblade's equal walked the Earth. The bracelet hummed in excitement.

Both individuals shared similar visions throughout the night, though neither was aware that the other was more than just a figment of their own imaginations.

Sure, they weren't…suggestive dreams, but they were still enough to instill some feelings.

Rolling off the couch, the hard floor brought him back to consciousness. Clutching his throbbing skull, he staggered upright, barely remembering where he was, and why. Tripping over himself to the bathroom, he disrobed as he went. Pulling the shower curtain aside, he froze when his blurred eyes caught sight of the ornament adorning his wrist.

"What the fuck?" he grumbled, wondering if he was seeing things.

Munching breakfast, he glared at the band on his arm. He'd tried everything short of a Rasengan and dismemberment to get it off. Nothing. Not a scratch. Nor did it budge. He briefly revisited the thought of amputation, but gave up on it. He'd never actually tested the extent of his healing that much. So he'd leave it alone…for now.

Who was that woman anyway? She reminded him of one Anko Mitarashi…which could be a good thing or a bad thing. Well…so long as she wasn't into bondage.

Timeskip

Walking through a dark alley. Cliché. Bad idea…right? Maybe for the poor schmucks trying to jump him. Four greasy looking punks, again, really cliché, had closed in on him from either end of the shortcut.

One of them exploding out of his skin? Not so expected.

"So, it's you," the mass of metal hummed, dropping the slashed remains of its now dead comrades. "You're the one…making my blood boil!"

The blonde man groaned. Great, another one. How annoying. No weapon on hand, so… Sighing, he rolled up his sleeves. Time to do it the fun way.

As if in response to that very thought…the strange band on his arm pulsed, warming ever slightly. Eying it, the metal uncoiled, stretching and wrapping around his hand in the form of a gauntlet, then going all the up to his shoulder. Experimentally flexing his hand, he marveled, though confused, at this…transformation. In further response to his thoughts, a long, slender katana-like blade sprouted from the wrist. Forming a hilt, it broke away for him to grip. "_Interesting,_" he pondered, examining the blade. He could sense the leaking of his chakra into the band, and through it the armor and blade. Reconsidering the X-Con, he ignored the mechano-man's ranting. "Sorry, looks like you're small game."

The X-Con fell apart in bloody chunks.

Turning from the morbid scene, he walked away. The armor and sword retracted, receding back into what he considered the initial form. Holding up his arm, he sent a critical glare at it. "I still don't know anything about you… We need to work on our communication."

An open book in his lap, his breathing was shallow as he dozed on the couch. As he'd hoped, as of yet, the evening seemed fairly uneventful. Though somewhat enlightening.

Sensing out the familiar, strange energy signature of the woman who'd slapped the trinket on him, he'd come to some interesting conclusions.

Keeping his distance, he observed her.

It was absolutely ludicrous! The woman was almost a polar opposite of the one he had faced. And yet…it was her. More likely than not, it had something to do with the odd, intricately wrought metal bracelet on her right wrist. Judging from how she regarded the bracelet, she was aware of its power.

Just being this close, his own band hummed, a light vibration of singing metal. It took extraordinary concentration of will to ease it back into silence, but he was adamant in his stealth.

She had a daughter, too. He smiled a little at their interaction. The woman acted like a child, and the child as if she was the adult. It was amusing.

Anyway, he'd hoped for an easy afternoon of lazing.

No such luck.

The band on his arm warmed. Just enough to notice.

Blue eyes opened, blinking away sleep. What now? Looking to the odd ornament… It was an insistent tugging in his mind, wanting him to go somewhere. As for the where…he felt a few notable energy signatures, one of which was familiar. That woman… Was she why the bracelet wanted to go? He already had an inkling, but the questions remained.

Book closed, he swung his legs off and stood up from the couch. As if sensing his intent, his acquiescence, the band again warmed, humming with what was most likely excitement. It unraveled into a gauntlet, then up his arm. Unlike earlier in the alley, it didn't stop there. The armor spread over his body. Interlocking plates cascaded down his chest and abdomen, moderately covering his crotch so as not to hinder movement, and down his legs. His back was less armored, but a metallic spine provided a good deal of protection. Creeping up his neck, feeling more like cloth than metal, it ended just barely covering his jaw line up to his ears, a portion covering the back of his skull. The last of the process was when, above his eyes and below, on either side, matching plates came across to meet in a modest helm hugging his head and face. Blue eyes glowed a ghostly silver, heightening the effect.

"_Hunh,_"he mumbled with a metallic distortion.

This armor, the…metal…was surprisingly flexible, but strong. Nor was it bulky. In fact, it was surprising how little it hindered his movement. Again, he sensed his chakra's influence. It was freely intermingling with the odd energy within the band.

But… "Not yet," he chastised. The armor retreated, but he could sense the hair trigger.

Later.

For now…

In seconds, he was atop the various roofs, leaping toward his unknown destination.

Earlier:

Masane lay on the edge of the mattress. Smiling fondly down at the sleeping Rihoko, she caringly stroked the little girl's hair. "Riko, we finally have a place to call our own."

'Vbbb'

Pulling away from her adoptive daughter, she retrieved an odd phone from beside her. Her "boss" had given it to her to stay in contact and let her know about missions. Truthfully, the cell phone looked like a tricked out walkie talkie. Clicking it on, she brought the device to her ear. "Yes?" An urgent voice immediately rang over the speaker.

"This is Ota, with the retrieval unit. We've just spotted an X-Con."

Masane frowned, but, looking to the sleeping Riko, she reminded herself of wy she needed this work. "I'm on my way." Leaning across, she kissed her daughter on the head. "I'll be right back now."

AN/ Short, for now, but will be longer in the future. This is just to see if anyone's interested.


	2. Interfering

Clashing Blades

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or Witchblade

Speaking Normally

_Thoughts_

**Demonic/Possessed/Transformed Voice**

Chapter 2 - Interfering

The transformed Masane licked her lips, reveling in the feeling of indulging her blood lust. There was another aspect in which she wished to indulge, but she would wait for him to come to her for that to be sated. Annoying, but necessary.

The spidery X-Con shook. "For the first time…I'm satisfied." What followed was a prolonged metallic screeching.

"**Is that a fact?**" she scoffed, sneering. "**Wish I could say the same.**" She removed her arm from within the metal monster, jumping away. Just in time, as it exploded from the death dealing blow. Landing, she just smirked.

"She's really not as powerful as we thought."

Turning, she peered through the smoke and dust, trying to see who had spoken. To find just who'd dared to insult her.

"That's because the host is weak," a second voice added, again that of a woman. The air clearing, a pair of women were revealed. Both of whom were superbly well dressed. The one on the right, a short-haired brunette in a suit-skirt combination, stepped forward, smiling cockily.

"Please, allow me."

Raising her left wrist, a dull sliver bracelet stood out, its blue jewel glowing. There was a sudden, brief swell of energy before she was clad in dark blue skirted armor. Almost as scantily as the Witchblade bearer. In her left hand, attached at the wrist, was a massive crescent shaped blade longer than she was tall. Her hair had become a pale blonde, and her eyes shown a light blue.

Masane's eyes narrowed.

"**Come on, Witchblade. Why don't you show me what you've got?**" she taunted, raising her bow blade.

Despite the condescending attitude of her opponent, Masane remained confident. "**Are you sure you can handle it?**" Her blade shot forward from under her arm.

Each jumped forward. Their blades clashed…but it was Masane who was pushed back. Masane retreated, but the woman pressed her attack. Again, blades clashed, metal singing. Sparks briefly illuminated the underside of the overpass. Retaliating, Masane was sliced twixt her breasts, but it wasn't for nothing. Her attacker's blade cracked under the assault.

Ignorant of the damage, the woman continued attacking. Blades together, she used the contact to her advantage, throwing the Witchblade bearer. Masane flew backwards to crash into one of the overpass' concrete supports, bringing debris down onto herself.

"**Really? That's all you've got?**" she mocked. "**How disappointing. I expected so much more from you.**"

"**I've got plenty more,**" the redhead countered, pushing her way out of the rubble.

"**Hn.**"

Masane grinned. "**This little "dance" is just getting started.**"

The other woman scoffed, dramatically different from her earlier eagerness to fight. "**If you refuse to take this seriously, I won't enjoy killing you.**"

"**Then by all means.**" Bringing her hand up, she gave the thumb a quick, sensuous lick. "**Let's get serious.**" Bursting forward, she stabbed wildly. The blonde woman sent a horizontal slash back at her, but she managed to duck under it. Using the angle to her advantage, she followed through with her attack, and caught her opponent a glancing blow to her shoulder. A flesh wound.

The blue-armored woman didn't appear worried though. In fact, she seemed increasingly aroused. "**You've got nice moves.**" Leaning in close, to the side of their warring blades, her free hand caressed the redhead's face before pulling it closer to her own. "**In fact, I'm even starting to like you,**" she purred, making to kiss Masane.

"**Thank you. I'll pass.**" The tertiary blade on her armored knee lengthening, she rammed it into the libidinous woman's upper abdomen. Jerking away, she was caught unprepared for the now pissed off blonde's attacks. Spinning, she landed blow after blow on Masane, using the blade to bludgeon her.

Masane recovered, and blocked the blade with her own.

But her opponent wasn't done. Once more, she threw herself into the offensive, and launched the redhead back into the same damaged support as before.

Her blade was cracking. As was the armor where her bracelet should be.

"**I won't miss again,**" she crowed crazily. "**Come on! Get up!**"

To the side, more or less forgotten by the combatants, the third woman stood, analyzing the battle. Now though, she noted this most recent development, the unstable behavior of her partner. "_Those cracks…_"

Her sword buried in the concrete above Masane's head, she wrenched it free. "**I **_**said**_** get ****up****!**" she snarled. Masane put up a weak guard, but her opponent was drawing on the strength of the maddened. "Fight me!" she ranted, beating on the redhead. Her blade's capabilities forgotten, replaced with the simple purpose as a club.

"…Shiori,"the observing woman mumbled, frowning.

The Witchblade bearer was thrown to the ground, her large, well-formed mounds heaving from her gasping breaths.

"**Nhn,**" Shiori snarked. "**What's the matter?**" she asked, feigning innocence. "**You can't give up when we're having so much fun.**" Her gloating left her open to be broadsided, but not by Masane. An armored van plowed right into her. Skidding to a halt, a pair of men poured out and scooped up the battered form of Masane, before screeching away.

Pushing herself up, Shiori was livid. "**She's **_**my**_** prey!**" A crack formed in her face, on her right cheek under the eye. "**She will **_**not**_** escape!**" Snarling, she dashed after the van.

"Shiori! Get back here!" but the woman's words went unheard.

It may as well have been as significant as background noise. Then, there was the pulsing signal. The moment it activated…a bomb going off would've been less noticeable. Well, to him. But that wasn't why he was here.

Making a beeline across town, he was just in time to see a woman get loaded into a car. Glowing eyes narrowed, focusing on the woman.

Disturbed by this latest development, Reina sprinted to her car. In seconds, the engine roared and, with the squealing of tires, it shot after her feral partner. Dodging the late night's traffic, she tried to shorten the gap between them. Movement in her rearview caught her attention, moving it away from the search for Shiori. With a resounding 'THUD' on her roof, she realized she hadn't been seeing things. Someone was indeed car jumping. In the brief second that followed, it jumped again, allowing her a better chance to see it.

She couldn't see much, but it was still more than enough.

The figure was undoubtedly male, but the agility and power were something to be expected of a clone-blade bearer. The mystery vexed her for its timing.

To further elevate her surprise, the man rotated in air and threw something at her. A moment later, she felt the tires give out, her car skidding to a halt, impeding traffic.

But she had gotten a better look at him now. Wild hair, the color beyond her in the poor lighting, and his face was concealed all the way to the eyes, which glowed crimson. Though it was just conjecture, she sensed amusement in those eyes. How…frustrating. Pulling the car as best she could to the side of the highway, she transformed and took off after.

Crazed, Shiroi looked out over the water, poised to leap from the bridge. "You're not getting away from me!" she hissed excitedly. Her feet had hardly left the rail when she was caught. Her captor a lavender haired woman in armor similar to her own.

"**That's **_**enough**_**, Shiori!**" Hauling the woman up by her arm, she slapped her soundly across the face. "**Snap out of it!**"

Taken aback almost immediately, Shiori's mind cleared. "**Doctor? What-What happened?**"

Her partner now back in control of herself, Reina repressed the frown that wanted to show itself so badly. This evening had gone far and away from where the plans had dictated, and now only problems remained. Questions.

The whereabouts of the Witchblade and its current user.

The odd man.

And Shiori's deterioration during her fight.

"And people call me reckless," he muttered, snorting amusedly. Standing away from the bed, he watched the wounded woman sleep. She'd certainly thrown herself into the ringer.

It had been child's play tracking her to the boat. With his speed and ability, and with the aid of a cloudy night, he'd gone unseen as he tore across the waves. The ship was all but empty, nothing but a skeleton crew running it. What struck him as strange though were two men in particular. One was obviously the other man's butler or secretary, possibly even his advisor. The other was a man of money. Both were well dressed, but the man with the scar had an air of authority.

Neither one gave him a second glance as he strolled right past them, nor did they notice him whenever they came to check on her. Sure, he was a master of stealth and they had no experience in detecting those like him. For the most part, that left him to observe her in contemplative silence.

This close…the metal band on his arm positively sang.

He was beginning to get the barest of inklings. More than anything else, the two armbands were connected.

It was both enthralling and nauseating watching the newly awakened woman go through plate after plate of food. To anyone other than her, it would have looked funny. This fit, trim woman going at the food like she'd come out of a famine.

"Are you sure it's wise to inhale your food like that?" Hiroki Segawa questioned. He idly wondered just how it was that she hadn't choked yet, when considering the pile of thirteen or fourteen cleared plates.

Masane sent a glare his way before diving back in with renewed gusto. "Back off!" she griped before grabbing the fresh plate from his hands. "Using the Witchblade always makes me frigging starving!" Biting into a loaf of bread, she unceremoniously ripped out a chunk, devouring it.

"You clearly don't eat like a person who almost died last night," Takayama retorted, descending into the fair-sized cabin.

Masane's glaring continued. "Didn't your mother ever teach you to knock?"

"Her recovery rate is truly astounding, Director," Segawa reported. "Far better than we ever expected of the Witchblade's capabilities." Masane ignored them in favor of sating her monstrous appetite.

"That is impressive." Walking over, the Doji head, grasped Masane's chin harshly as if examining her.

"Hey!" she whined in protest. He wasn't exactly being gentle.

"Mhm."

"Get your hand _off_ me!" she snapped, slapping his hand away.

"Yes, I see. Her healing rate has increased rather dramatically," Takayama appraised. "Send the new data to the lab."

"Yes, sir."

Okay, she'd had enough. Slamming her fist down on the bed tray, she roared out in anger at them, Takayama in particular. "That's it! I've had enough! I'm not your damn hamster."

"Not my hamster?" Takayama asked, clueless, or uncaring.

"I believe she meant to say "guinea pig"," Segawa offered in correction.

Realizing her mistake, and being corrected for it, Masane blushed. "Whatever!" She climbed out of bed, amazingly, dressed. "I'm going home now! It's been real," and strode past the men.

"You might want to look out the window."

Confused, but willing to play ball, she did just that, proceeding to the oddly small, and circular, window. "Nha…WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?"

"We've been at see all night so we're a considerable distance from shore," Segawa informed her, trying to be helpful. Not that it was working. Masane was freaking out. "We're on a course for the harbor now, but we still have some time until we arrive."

"What the crap!" She rounded on them. "I haven't even been able to talk to Rihoko!"

Whether it was because of the opportunity to speak to Rihoko, doing more for her nerves than for the child's, or maybe due to the weariness still coursing through her, she wasn't too long away from calming down. Of course, in her famished state, giving her more food seemed to be the first in great strides to appease her.

And the whole time, Segawa and Takayama seemed to study her, the former at least being helpful and bringing more food. She'd almost doubled her earlier record upon waking. It wasn't until the rice pudding, hunger only just beginning to fade, that she paused, a far off look on her face. Spoon still lodged in her mouth, Masane blinked, staring owlishly between the two men.

"What?" the more physically developed of the two, Takayama, questioned. "What is it?"

Pulling the spoon out, she stared at the spot, her nose wrinkling in concentration. "I…don't know. There's something over there." This new confusion had completely, if momentarily, overwritten her annoyance at them.

The boss glanced once more to the spot she was focusing on. "It's called a chair." She glared back at him.

"I know that. You don't have to be such an asshole," she snapped back indignantly before grousing. "But, I'm telling you, there's something else over there."

Takayama shook his head. "You're still recovering, so it's probably just your mind playing tricks on you. I can assure you, there's nothing there."

As if to blatantly prove him wrong, the air around the spot she'd been concentrating on shimmered, the vacant chair occupied by a strange blonde man. "You should listen to the lady." His face was concealed from the eyes down by a cloth facemask. He was dressed in jeans and a dark hoody, but his eyes glowed with hidden power.

To his credit, Takayama had a weapon almost immediately in his hands, trained on him.

The blonde lazily waved his hand at him.

The weapon was sliced in half, the forward end falling from the piece in his grip. "No need to be rude."

The woman stiffened before her eyes started to glow. "**You.**"

"Who are you?" Takayama began, tense. He hadn't seen anything that could have explained his weapon breaking in two, and Masane hadn't transformed. "You can't be an X-Con, so what are you?"

"In due time," the man answered. "But I'd like my questions answered first." He locked eyes with Masane.

Blinking owlishly, the glow in her eyes faded. "Who are you?" she asked, confused.

"How about you explain this for me, first," he proposed, presenting his left arm, and slowly rolling back the sleeve.

Segawa's eyes just grew to saucer size.

To his credit, Takayama didn't utter so much as a single syllable. His facial twitches were less easy to control. Eyes widened momentarily, but still drastically, and the muscles in his jaw and neck tightened. "Is that-"

The blonde man glared at him, and he fell into surprised silence.

Turning back to the woman, "Well?" Her eyes were locked on the wide metal band on his forearm. In her mind, bits and pieces of memories floated to the surface. It was still hard to remember her times when the Witchblade took control. But it was still there. She did remember him. They'd fought. She remembered the feelings of the Witchblade at the time.

Excitement.

Lust.

Joy?

"The time we fought, the other you left me a present. I wake up the next morning after a Hellish sleep, and, the next thing I know, I'm accessorizing." As if to prove his point, or maybe to answer their unasked questions, he willed the armor to form. The band sprouted outward forming the gauntlet, but no further.

Takayama was at a loss. Not only had the Witchblade seen fit to create another of itself, through no method he could think of, but it had attached said parthenogenesis created offspring….onto a man. "…" Shaking his head, "This isn't right. This shouldn't be possible."

The blonde man rolled his eyes. "Too late for "shouldn't"," he snarked before locking eyes with Masane.

"She wants you," Masane spouted. All three men blinked. "A…partner."

His brow knit. "I figured as much. Junior here's been kind enough to give me the idea…but I just needed to know for certain."

"You're the one she's been searching for." Her eyes glowed just a little. "We've been searching for you for centuries. One strong enough to face our power." Takayama's eyes narrowed. The blonde's brow rose. "We have long sought one who could be our equal…our counterpart."

The blonde shook his head. "A king to your queen." The two men looked at him oddly. "Nothing. Again, Junior hinted at it."

"Yes," the semi-possessed Masane encouraged. "You have bested me in battle, and survived the test laid upon you, bonding with the weapon long ago willed into creation for our other half. Long have we carried part of our love within us. For time immemorial we have searched…and only now found you…" Masane was still there, but under the influence of the Witchblade. Either way, through the bleed over, she could understand what it was saying, and what it wasn't. What it was feeling.

She could see just a little of what it saw.

And she could see the attraction.

"_So much for "the simple life",_" he internally groaned.

Masane, taking back control just stared back at him, perplexed. Just what was it that he had that had the Witchblade so interested?

AN/ 'Til next time!


	3. In Defense of the Queen

Clashing Blades

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or Witchblade

Speaking Normally

_Thoughts, occasionally other things_

**Demonic/Possessed/Transformed Voice**

Chapter 3, In Defense of the Queen

Despite her incredible progression, it was still somewhat painful as she explored the yacht. Her ribs ached terribly as she wandered around. Takayama, the bastard, chose seclusion, only checking on her when it interested him. And she couldn't give a rat's ass for his visits.

Until _she_ sought _him_ out.

It was nothing really, just an innocuous photograph, found among the spilled contents of a fallen box in her recovery room. The box and its contents had been picked up and moved, but the picture had found itself jammed twixt the wall and a fancy wooden cabinet. In it there were two people, decked out in lab coats. She'd immediately recognized Takayama, albeit younger, but the other person…

Son of a bitch!

There was no mistaking the partner of that bitch from the other night.

Confronting him had been…enlightening. Even to the blonde man who could hear them, even through the walls.

Reina Soho, on staff with the NSWF. It was thanks to her that the Witchblade had gotten back into the wind.

Eyes glazed from some sick ecstasy, she cut down another poor sap.

It wasn't enough.

Killing wasn't enough.

"Still not satisfied."

She wanted…more.

She wasn't just lusting for blood anymore.

Forlornly, she gazed over the sea, standing at the edge of the boardwalk. "Her…Yes, her," she murmured, her appearance shifting. Smoky pink eyes, dark sclera, eyelids rimmed with red, she focused on something in the distance. She couldn't actually see it…but she could sense it. Somehow, she just knew, _she_ was there. "She can fill my needs," she moaned hungrily. Leaping out over the water, she skipped over the waves.

Leaning back against the railing on the bow, the blonde man appeared as if asleep. But, as if to prove contrary, the eyelids cracked open. Turning to the ocean, blue orbs searched the horizon before his face wrinkled in a frown of annoyance, he stood fluidly to his feet.

Grumbling about cheapskate bosses, Masane sat on her bed, legs pulled up to her chest. Catching movement in her peripheral, she noticed Naruto, shoulder leaning against the door frame. She really didn't know what to make of him. The feeling she got from the Witchblade was a great sense of attraction, like a complimenting other half, but she herself knew very little.

He was quite handsome. To be blunt, he was hot! But she could still feel…something.

The nebulous blonde was framed by the open portal, blue eyes regarding her. And there was another thing, those eyes. She could feel such intensity reflected in those orbs. "Your friend from the other night… She's here."

'KTHNK'. An echoed impact sent a resounding shudder through the yacht.

Masane's eyes widened, going glassy before flashing silver. Slipping off the mattress, she strode forward, but he didn't step aside. "You're still recovering," he chided before letting out a sigh. Just as suddenly, his demeanor shifted, blue eyes visibly glowing. "I'll send her away." Grudgingly, she stepped down.

The band on his arm sang joyous songs of battle in his mind, and he couldn't help but share that feeling a little. A good fight always helped him to think clearer.

Breathing heavily from both the exertion of crossing the short expanse of ocean and the excitement of finding her prey, Shiori's eyes showed only madness, gleeful madness. "Where is she? I KNOW SHE'S HERE!" Not even giving time to possibly answer back, she snapped the neck of the hired boat hand. Throwing him aside like a piece of garbage, she looked around eagerly. Dodging, she evaded the explosive round that would've cut her in half.

Ever the voice of professionalism, "You're trespassing. Get off my boat." Doji designed military rifle cradled in his arms, Takayama grimaced before firing again.

She jumped. Far faster than he was able to track. Landing to the side and behind him, she was confronted by his assistant, shakily leveling a handgun on her. Sane enough to be annoyed, she just batted him aside before turning to the Doji head. "Takayama…" she breathed. "The doctor's lover." Knocking his gun from his hands, she threw him against the hull before sashaying over to him. Her smile was somewhere between psychotic…and horny. "Where is she?" she asked childishly. "Where's the Witchblade?"

"She's busy."

Shiori wheeled around, eyes alight at the hopes of something new to play with…then destroy, in whichever order.

Standing aloof in front of the stairs to the lower deck was a man in jeans and a hoody. He had spiky blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She had to admit, if she went for guys, he wasn't half bad in the looks department. But such was a train of thought reserved for the sane of mind. Grinning insanely, she skipped over to him. Yes, skipped. In a flash, her bowblade was raised and then descending upon him. The cut went from his right shoulder down to his left hip.

At least, that had been her intent. Cut him in two and watch the life leave him, blood spraying all over.

Instead, the weapon's path was immediately halted just shy of meeting his flesh. Blocked, lazily held back in the palm of his left hand, the blade progressed no further. Shiori's eyes widened. Unhinged as she was, she still knew that should be impossible. Then, before her eyes, from under his sleeve, armor sprouted. Before her eyes, the man was transformed, until he stood defiantly against her enshrouded in armor. It was of a more rustic appearance than was usually seen, in either the cloneblades or the Witchblade. In fact, glowing lines and runes covered its surface in some unknown, yet entrancing pattern. "That'll be enough of that," he intoned darkly, metal hand gripping her blade firmly before breaking it off.

"What the-Who the fuck are you?" This shock was enough to shake her mental gears a little into processing.

"I am her sword. I am King to her Queen, her knight when she needs me." His metallic voice was cool and even. "I am Excalibur." The words poured from his lips like an ancient river. The source being bleed over of the connection between him and the so-dubbed band, Excalibur.

Smirking, she fell back into her primal, killing state of mind. "So if I kill you, _she'll_ come fight me," she cackled. Flashing briefly into her secondary form, her blade regrew. Lashing out, her blade was again blocked. This time by a sword that the man brought forth. They traded sword slashes, but it was immediately evident, by the fact that he didn't move from his spot, that he was better with a sword than she was. A bit put off, a new idea crossed her fevered mind. "Or better yet, we could try something more fun?" she cooed suggestively.

Glowing blue eyes widened just a fraction.

"_She's gone completely off the rails,_" he mentally scoffed, amazed. It was actually very familiar to his early days of using Kyubi's youkai. He could sense what was wrong with her. Whatever it was, its progression seemed to be the reason her face and armor were literally cracking before his eyes. Her bracelet, the one so similar to the Witchblade, as he'd heard it called, it was…wrong. That is, something about it felt wrong to him. Off. Imperfect. "You can't even think for yourself anymore," he chastised metallically, tilting his head away from a reckless slash. "Are you even aware of what you're doing?"

"…I need you… Satisfy me!"

His band…Excalibur…tingled in his mind.

Glowing eyes narrowed. Her latest blow already en route, his arm shot out and grasped her left wrist, his armored hand covering her cloneblade. "Let's see what we can do about this…" His free hand blocked the incoming retaliatory attack, holding it in an unrelenting grip. Glaring at him, she found herself frozen as he met her eyes with an expression of fierce annoyance. The deterioration of her mind was reaching critical levels as her eyes went from fierce and crazed, to piteous. "Please, I just need to feel it. I need release," she moaned, even going so far as rubbing her thighs together for the pleasurable friction.

Ignoring her, he concentrated on his connection with Excalibur. His hand glowed a mix of alternating ribbons of silver and blue energies. Almost immediately, for a new reason, Shiori went absolutely still. The cracks in her body and armor shrunk, healing in the case of both, and the blue armor began to recede. Her hair switched from silver-white to brown, and her glowing eyes dulled. Reappearing in a bloodied and torn medical gown, her eyes closed sleepily before she collapsed forward.

Behind him, witness to the last few moments of the fight, and this most recent occurrence, Masane watched in stunned, appreciative awe. Clutching her still aching ribs, she walked over to the still armored man, Takayama climbing to his feet and stumbling over as well. "What did you do?" she asked, confused.

The sleeping brunette still draped against him, he turned a relaxed eye to Masane. "I fixed her," he said simply. To the side, Takayama's eyes widened barely enough to the point where the action was nearly imperceptible as he took in that bit of information. "If I did my work correctly, she should be far more…stable." He picked her up carefully. "Come, let's find her a place to sleep."

Takayama groaned, but relented. "Alright, let's get her below." Answers were much in deficit, but everything in its time.

"Um, didn't she come here to kill us all?" Masane asked. "Me in particular."

His armor receded. "It's poor taste to pick on someone for being nuttier than a fruitcake," he countered with a chuckle.

"I still don't get it," Masane began, shaking her head. "I mean, what made her go off like that?" The three of them were in what had before been Masane's room, where she'd been healing. Now, the bed was being used by the woman who'd not ten minutes ago gone on a psychotic tear on the yacht and its occupants. Surrounding it, they stood vigil while sharing questions and answers. Takayama's assistant, being the only other one alive on the boat, was guiding the boat, bringing it around so that they could get back to shore before dark.

Naruto shrugged. "Not sure, but it seemed to be because of that bracelet of hers."

Takayama crossed his arms, but said nothing. It might soon be time to give a few of the more guarded answers again. "It's a cloneblade. It was created by the NSWF based on the idea of making new versions of the Witchblade, using the data obtained on it while they and Doji worked together," he informed the blonde, expecting him to have not heard or known of their earlier conversation, reminding Masane of what he'd told her earlier, giving them just enough for now that he was pretty sure they wouldn't question it.

Both Naruto and Masane felt subtle feelings of anger from their respective bracelets.

"I kinda figured. Sorry, I heard your explanation earlier," Naruto huffed before looking back down at the woman who seemed to be overcome by an excruciatingly deep slumber. "The whole time she fought, something just felt…wrong…about her. Like something was broken, or, just…incomplete." He looked down at the bracelet on the sleeping woman's wrist. "Excalibur and I, we…fixed it…I think." He huffed. "We could've just broke it, but the only way to fix _her_…was to fix _it_. It's an amusing little toy though."

Takayama looked at him in poorly concealed incredulity. "That "toy" is a weapon," he countered.

Naruto raised a brow at the man. "You've yet a lot to see before you call that a weapon, and you wouldn't say that if you could sense what I can."

Masane, eager for some answers, leaned forward, elbows on her knees as she rested her chin in her hands. Her generous bust swaying just a little. "Oh? And what's that?"

Not seeing anything wrong with telling, he explained. "…Her "cloneblade", as you called it, has limits. Limits I can't sense in the original." He eyed the Witchblade on her wrist. "Yours has greater potential than the imitation."

Takayama frowned at him. "How could you possibly know that?" Not that it wasn't true. The years of study by Doji and its competitor had proven it a fact.

"I know things," he answered stiffly. "A lot of things. Don't ask how, I won't tell you. Just know that I do." Knowing was a pain as it was. He didn't want to experience the fun and joy of explaining anytime soon.

At a similar time as their conversation, Dr. Reina Soho was driving along. Not so much paying attention to signs and roadways as she was her feelings, following her senses.

The yacht pulled into the harbor, silently parting waves in testament of just how high end it was. The setting sun casting an orange-red light on its hull, reflecting brightly off the windows. Pretty funny really, the majestic craft returning with chunks missing from its formerly pristine hull. Mentioning it to the Doji head, the man simply glared at him.

Well, he thought it was funny.

Takayama was delivering his parting instructions to Masane, the latter of the pair listening reluctantly, when a rather cold voice clipped over their conversation and through the sounds of the ocean.

"Where is she?" They turned to find Reina Soho descending the ramp down to the docks. She looked terse, and worried. Masane's feelings at seeing the woman were mixed. Takayama's story had her a little conflicted on how to react. Something in her had made the cold bastard fall for her. "I was told Shiori came to see you."

Takayama's face may as well have been set in stone. "She did."

"Where is-"

"She's here." Exiting the cabin, an…odd man stepped off the boat. In his arms was a sleeping brunette. In his arms, wrapped in a blanket, was Shiori, the exposed skin of her legs showing that she was indeed quite naked underneath. The muscles in her jaw clenched. Not just at the sight of her partner unconscious, but from the feeling this man gave off. From the steady pulsing of recognition that her cloneblade was giving her from being in his proximity…something was definitely off with him. It wasn't the same feeling as an X-Con, but it still stood out enough for her cloneblade to take notice of.

Despite the calculated odds against them attacking her, caution was in her every move. She was no fool. And the situation, panning out as it seemed to, had her instincts twitching at the feeling of a mystery, a scientific conundrum needing solving. But that was for another time.

"Nice to see you got your tires fixed," he commented as she led him to the car.

Taking his comment in stride, "Place her on the back seat," she responded crisply, opening the door. This put credence to the theory that he was the man who'd given chase that night. Curious as she was, she wasn't so foolish as to jump in without looking for information first. He showed a good deal of care in laying her down on the seats before backing out of the doorway. Emotionally reserved eyes turned on him as he straightened back up. "I couldn't drive around with flat tires." To which he nodded casually. Confirmation?

"Nice lady. Kinda cold."

"Hmf." Purposefully ignoring the baiting, Takayama concentrated on the car pulling out. His thoughts were far more conflicted than either of the people at his side. Once the car was far enough out of sight that it was assuredly not coming back, his almost indifferent focus shifted to the Witchblade bearer and the…other, er, blade bearer. "We should talk. I'd like to offer you a job," the proposition going out to the blonde man.

Not even taking a moment to consider the offer, "Sorry, I'm freelance." Still just as impassive, Takayama, took a closer measure of the man before he let it go. For now at least, he would let it slide. He had nothing on the man, and, despite his interest in someone the Witchblade was interested in, he had nothing to force his hand either. Now wasn't the time to be implacable.

"Mom!" Heads turned, one immediately recognizing the voice.

Intercepting the tiny girl, she pulled her daughter up into her arms, hugging her tightly. "Riko!" Embracing her, she felt so very happy to see her after their unexpected separation. "What are you doing here?"

"Surprised?" she questioned cutely. "I came with mister Tozawa."

"Tozawa's here, too?" and followed Riko's gaze as the little girl looked over her shoulder. Leaning against one of the dock's tall pilings, the amateur photographer was obviously doing his best to look cool and nonchalant.

"Hey, what's up?"

Ruffling his shaggy hair, the blonde let out a deep sigh. "Well, it's been fun. See ya 'round, Masane," wearing his as always winning smile, "Take care of your mom, kid," he teased, playfully ruffling Rihoko's hair. Smiling in kind, she giggled appreciatively. Backing away with a jaunty wave, he turned around and walked off along the boardwalk.

Rihoko had slept the entire trip home, almost from the start, which was fortunate as Tozawa had had the gall to try and corner her about what he knew. She'd deflected the questions, but there was no changing the fact that he knew things that he shouldn't.

It wouldn't be until later that night, drunk out of her mind, that Masane would find a folded slip of paper in her jeans pocket. "_Now how'd that get in there?_" not that she was even consciously aware of the thought. Curiosity that of a child, she flipped it open without resignation to find a small passage, barely readable through her inebriation. "For emergencies. Call me, when you need me – Naruto," with a number jotted just below it. Part of her wondered how he'd gotten the note in her pocket without her noticing. Shrugging away those thoughts, yawning loudly, she made for the bedroom. It had been a _long_ day.

Naruto…

Slipping into the sheets next to Rihoko, gently kissing her on the head, she could feel sleep overtaking her. Amidst the fatigue, her waning mind wandered. She knew why the Witchblade wanted him. And, what surprised her less than she'd expected was that she found him attractive in similar ways.

NSWF

Office dark, Reina's eyes were neither on the city outside her window, the stars above, or on anything else for that matter. They were unseeing as her mind, wrapped in confusion, tried to sort out the many disturbing facts she had compiled as of late. The intercom on her desk beeped before delivering its message, uncaring as to whether she heard it or not. "_The following is a statement prepared by Father,_" the voice informed. "_In regards to Shiori Suzuki, my sadness runs deep. I anxiously await a full investigation and report into why this tragedy occurred. Additionally, I expect the same concerning the Witchblade. As a side note, Reina, Father is a bit unnerved that no such report, or any explanation at all, has yet been given by you personally. That is all._" Sighing, she filed away the message for later. Her mind ceased its calculating just long enough for her eyes to flicker back to the simple report gracing her desk. She'd already read it. In point of fact, she'd been the one to write, as she had done all the testing herself.

Leaning forward, she stood from her chair and left the room, grabbing her knee-length white lab coat as she went. For that was the necessary attire of the location where she was headed.

Currently, Shiori was in the sublevel two medical ward, both for secrecy and security.

She'd gone over the results again and again. Repeated tests and analyses spat out the same increasingly confusing results every time. There was no denying what happened. _What_ happened was readily evident, the question remaining was _how?_

Shiori's cloneblade was leading her into a complete system's crash, previous tests showing progressive deterioration, not just in the cloneblade, but bleeding over into her mental state. Now, not only was she stable, as far as tests showed in her unconscious state, but there was no sign of the atrophy anywhere, neither in the woman or her cloneblade. And scans of said weapon showed that it was working at optimum efficiency, with the oddity of the sync levels between the two being absolutely perfect, despite the impossibility.

Again, this left the wholly massive and disturbing question: _how?_

She wasn't against learning new things, far from it. She knew the power of cultivated knowledge. But this was irking her to the point of being annoying. Replacing the chart, she passed a rare worried glance over her partner. Shiori still had yet to awaken, but everything pointed to it just being a matter of time as her body seemed to be on the rebound from an incredible fatigue.

With her, Reina was certain, lay many of the answers she was looking for.

Thoughts relatively organized, she picked up the recorder and began her report on what she knew to be fact regarding the situation.

As she had expected, not long after sending the data file, she was on the receiving end of a secure phone call from Father himself. Apparently, he considered the matter important enough that a direct conversation, even if through a phone, was necessary.

"_What are you saying, Reina?_"

Ever annoyed at the tiresome ritual of repeating herself to someone who didn't think like herself, regardless of who they were, "It is my belief that while away, Shiori may have stumbled onto something. There is simply no other calculable explanation for her current state. By the science, she should be dead."

"_And yet she isn't,_" the voice pointed out, amused. "_Still, I am rather interested in the difference in her sync level now._"

Pausing, she collected her words. "Again, we can only assume that some outside stimulus was able to reverse or repair the damage, and if that is the case, it wouldn't be wholly beyond whoever or whatever did so to correct the deviances between Shiori and her cloneblade."

"_Facinating._"

Agreed. "We haven't seen such in the Witchblade, but there still lies the possibility it is responsible." It was only a theory. Through the extensive, yet quite lacking, research into the weapon, they had learned much, but hadn't found anything that could explain this occurrence.

"_I suppose we will just have to wait until she is recovered enough to provide some answers,_" the voice proposed, as if it were a god granting a benevolent boon. "_Good night, Reina._"

"Good night, Father."

Several floors down, tired eyelids wiggled before flickering open at an achingly slow pace, the eyes beneath barely with the energy to make out her surroundings. "Doctor?"

AN/ I know, I know. My updates aren't going as fast as I want them to, either. Truth is, most of my hang-ups are related to Shadowed Light. I'm at a point in the story that is necessary, but teeth grindingly slow going. Please, have patience.


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